Love for all Seasons

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  Not that it mattered now. They stood before a church full of people, ready to recite their vows. The best Tristan could do was to beam at her and hope she would beam back.

  He flashed a bright smile at her. Damn, she wasn’t even looking. She tipped her head down in that exact moment. Was she hiding tears? It was hard to tell with her head aimed towards the floor.

  When she arrived at the front and stood before him and the minister, she still didn’t raise her head. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t even dare a glance at him the entire ceremony. Tristan thought for sure that when they went to sign the registry, she’d have to look at him then, but no. Not even a single glance in his direction.

  Well, she wouldn’t be able to escape him any longer. The wedding breakfast was at her home, and there was no choice but for them to ride in his carriage together in order to get there. At last, they climbed into the carriage alone and sat on opposite sides from one another.

  Tristan allowed a minute or so to pass before he spoke. “Will you ever look at me, Patience? It is our wedding day, after all, and you haven’t spared even a glance in my direction.”

  Her throat worked furiously as she swallowed, turning her head to look out the window of the carriage. She finally shook her head no.

  “May I ask why you won’t look at me?”

  Another shake of her head.

  Tristan sat back with a sigh, becoming more troubled by the moment. But when she started to cry, he could refrain no longer. He leaped across the carriage to sit next to her, laying a hand on her arm when what he really wanted to do was gather her against him and hold her until she stopped crying.

  “Please, Patience, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “I-I shouldn’t think I would have to tell you,” she choked out. “This whole thing is a disaster.”

  “A disaster?”

  “Of course!” she wailed. “I lied to you, deceived you, and trapped you into marriage, and now you’ll hate me and resent me the rest of our lives and all the while I’ll have to stare at your beautiful face, knowing that I’m madly in love with someone who will never love me back!”

  For the first time all day, Patience turned to him, her hand flying to her mouth and a little gasp escaping her throat. Clearly she hadn’t meant to say as much as she did. But Tristan could help but smile like a blasted simpleton at her admission.

  “You little fool,” he said, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

  “Yes, I know I am,” she whispered. “I think I just established that, didn’t I?”

  “Would you just…be quiet, please,” he said, and then he descended on her, his lips pressing against hers, his arms wrapping around her small waist. She opened to him easily and allowed the kiss for a few moments before shoving against his chest.

  “Wait a moment,” she said, out of breath. “You mean you’re not angry with me?”

  “Does this look angry to you?” He pulled her back and resumed the kiss, only to be pushed away again.

  “But after all I’ve done? You’re not just the slightest bit resentful that I trapped you into marriage?”

  “Patience,” he said, trying not to lose his patience, “do you want me to be angry and resentful?”

  She turned thoughtful. “No, of course not. But…where have you been these last six weeks? Not a single word from you. I thought for certain you were going to leave me at the altar.”

  Tristan moved in closer to her again. “I’m sorry I’ve been scarce. I probably should have sent some kind of correspondence, but I’ve been busy. I had a lot of work to do at Hamlin Abbey to prepare it for my new bride.” He remembered he was carrying something very special in his pocket and reached in to pull it out. “And I did a little shopping too.”

  Patience still looked a bit skeptical as she took the box from him. “You bought me a wedding present?”

  He nodded as a mischievous smile came to his lips. “I hope you like it.”

  She removed the paper, and a satisfying blush rose to her cheeks. “It’s…”

  “The English translation. I figured it might come in handy later on, after I’ve exhausted all other possibilities of making love to you.”

  “Tristan!” Patience swatted him with the book and then burst into giggles. “Fortunately for you,” she said as her mirth died down, “I had my own personal translator these long six weeks that I’ve been waiting to hear from you. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to put my knowledge to the test.”

  Tristan couldn’t keep his hands off his wife any longer. He gathered her against him and pressed his lips to hers, delving into her mouth, reveling in the softness, and dreaming about what was to come.

  When they finally pulled apart, Patience looked up at him, her eyes shuttered with passion and desire, and he wondered how they were going to get through the wedding breakfast.

  “I just want you to know,” she said quietly, “that I’m not sorry after all.”

  A smile pulled at Tristan’s lips. “Is that so?”

  “I was sorry, but now that I know I’ll get to do this anytime I want—” she paused to kiss him again— “I’ve changed my mind completely.”

  Tristan decided he definitely would not make it through the wedding breakfast, so he picked up the Kama Sutra that sat on the seat next to Patience and started thumbing through its pages.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, amused.

  “I’m looking to see if they have any suggestions for making love to one’s wife in a carriage.”

  Patience laughed and then snatched the book from him, throwing it over her shoulder. It landed with a thud on the floor. “I can tell you already that there isn’t…but perhaps we can advise on the book’s next edition.”

  As Tristan lowered his wife to the carriage seat, he knew one thing was for certain—that if he had to be trapped by someone, he was very glad it had been Patience Findley.

  THE END

  A Penny for your Thoughts

  Originally from A Season to Remember

  For the other man in my life, Dr. Snuggle.

  You're the best and furriest friend a girl could ask for.

  ~ Jerrica

  It was ridiculous, really. Utterly ridiculous, and Penny knew it. There just wasn’t anything she could do about it. Oh, certainly she could dry her tears, think happy thoughts and pretend to be cheerful, but the truth of the matter—the deep down, devastating truth—was that she was miserable.

  She supposed she had good reason to be. She’d lost her eldest brother and her father earlier this year, which was traumatic enough, but on top of it all, she’d missed her very first Season, and now…

  She shook her head, trying not to think of how terribly upset she was, but the tears came anyway.

  Not that it mattered. Penny had escaped the ballroom as soon as she’d been able and had run to the furthest corner of the Lockwells’ garden. Shadows played on the stone pathways and the moon cast all the flowers in a shimmering blue light. A cool breeze blew through the hedgerows, drying her tears before the next ones fell to replace them.

  Deep breaths, Penny. It’s not as bad as all that.

  But it was as bad as all that. After her brother’s death and missing her Season, she’d been so excited to start the Little Season this fall—to find the romance she’d always dreamed of. To fall in love and walk through the rose gardens with a man she’d only ever dreamt about.

  Only they were several weeks into the Little Season, and here she was all alone in the garden while her sisters plotted their weddings and her brother, Devlin, strutted about the ballroom with a new bride on his arm.

  It wasn’t that Penny wasn’t happy for all of them. Truly, she was. Though she wondered if it was possible to be happy for someone and be so very unhappy with one’s own life as a result of that someone’s happiness.

  Goodness, how selfish she was being! And that thought brought on another wave of tears and distress. She buried her face in her hands, trying to muffle her sobs even though
there was no one to hear her cry.

  A twig cracked on the stones nearby. She looked up with a start, her heart racing.

  “Who’s there?” she called out as she frantically wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Please, show yourself.” She stood, hoping the tremble in her voice wasn’t as obvious to whoever was out there as it was to her.

  “Please,” came a deep voice from the shadows just before a man emerged from around the tall hedgerow at the end of the path. He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot,” he pleaded.

  Penny blinked, confused. “Why on earth would I shoot at you?” she asked. “I haven’t even got a gun.”

  The man dropped his hands and gave a little chuckle—one that made Penny feel ridiculous for the hundredth time that evening. Clearly, he’d been teasing her.

  “Yes, I figured as much,” he said, slowly moving closer to her, as if he were approaching a skittish kitten in the street. “Though I’ve often thought it would be more beneficial for debutantes to learn how to shoot rather than how to dance.”

  Penny couldn’t stop blinking. She probably looked like a petrified doe with red, puffy eyes, but she couldn’t help it. This man said the oddest things.

  “But I do know how to shoot,” she said, still trying to figure out if he was teasing her or being completely serious. “I just don’t have anywhere to hold a gun in this flimsy gown.”

  The man obviously found her amusing, if his uproarious laughter was any indication. Penny wasn’t amused though. She was quite annoyed, if truth be told. If he was going to intrude on her private moments and then laugh at her, he ought to at least offer his name so she could warn all her friends against him.

  “Touché,” he said as he regained his composure. “Now, might I have the pleasure of your name before I ask you a very personal question?”

  Blast. He’d beat her to it.

  “Penny—Penelope—that is, Penelope Bartlett.”

  The man’s eyes grew round and his mouth gaped open before he burst into laughter again. Penny couldn’t figure out if he was simply a jovial man or if she was so very ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laugh at her expense.

  “I hadn’t realized my name was so very humorous,” she said, shoving her nose into the air.

  He held up his hands again. “Oh, no, that isn’t it at all,” he said. “It’s quite a lovely name, it’s just…well, I hadn’t expected old Devlin’s little sister to be quite so…not little, I suppose.”

  Penny felt heat rush to her cheeks and she thanked all the gods in the heavens that it was too dark for him to see the embarrassing color. She knew she was well endowed. Her sisters were both rather normal in that area, but Penny’s overabundance was quite out of fashion.

  “You know my brother?”

  “Indeed.” Then he narrowed his eyes on her, and asked, “Does he know that you know how to use a gun?”

  “No,” Penny replied shortly. “And I’d rather keep it that way.” She didn’t want to soil the memories of her eldest brother Simeon teaching her to shoot. He’d gone against Father’s wishes and taught her in private. But Devlin had always been rather vocal in his support of Father’s desires to keep guns out of his daughters’ hands.

  “How is old Devlin, anyway?” he continued. “It’s been years since I’ve seen him.”

  “He’s inside,” Penny replied. “Perhaps you should go in and find him.”

  “Certainly. Just as soon as I’m done here.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind,” she said at last, “I would like very much to be alone right now.”

  “My sincerest apologies for intruding upon your privacy. But you see, I came out here for a bit of privacy myself.”

  “Oh!” Penny’s hand shot to her mouth. “You mean that someone else is coming to meet you here?”

  “Dear God, I hope not.” He sat down on the bench across from hers, so Penny plopped down as well. “To be honest, I’m trying to escape my sister-in-law.”

  Penny couldn’t help but be intrigued. She did love a bit of savory gossip. She sat forward on her seat, and asked, “Why? What has she done?”

  “It’s not so much my sister-in-law herself, as much as the women she’s trying to force upon me. She thinks I’m far too long in the tooth to be without a wife, and frankly, I couldn’t disagree more.”

  Penny watched with fascination as he pulled a cheroot from his pocket, placed it between his lips, and lit the end. It was mesmerizing somehow, and she couldn’t pull her gaze away from his mouth. Every suck in, every puff out, did something to her that she couldn’t quite explain.

  “Well, how old are you?” Penny asked without thinking. Goodness, where were her manners?

  But if he thought she was being rude, he didn’t say as much.

  “Thirty-one next month.” He winked at Penny—a gesture that nearly made her choke on the air she breathed. “See, practically ancient.”

  “Hm, interesting,” she said and immediately regretted it.

  “Interesting?” His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know age could be interesting.”

  In for a penny… “Oh, of course it can. Sometimes you can be absolutely certain a person is a certain age and then you find out that they are nowhere near that age, and it’s…” not interesting at all. Penny thought she might like to crawl into a hole. Why had she opened her mouth in the first place? She wasn’t in any sort of state to carry on an intelligent conversation.

  “So how old did you think me to be?” he asked.

  Penny swallowed and prayed for lightning. She’d rather be struck to the ground than answer that question. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t look any age at all. Every time the breeze picked up his wavy blond hair, it caught the moonlight just so, making him look like some kind of fallen angel rather than a human male.

  “I—um—what do you mean?” she said, hoping to buy time with an inane question.

  “You said it was interesting that I was thirty-one, so that must mean you thought me to be much older or much younger. Which one is it?”

  “I don’t know,” she finally admitted with a shake of her head. “It was stupid of me to say anything at all. Please, can we just forget about it?”

  He took another puff of his cheroot and then nodded. “For now.”

  Penny didn’t like the sound of that, but she decided not to pursue it further. Instead, she asked, “Might I now have the pleasure of your name, sir?”

  “Apologies, Miss Penelope.” He held his hand to his chest and bowed his head slightly as he said, “I am Drake Lockwell, Viscount Flitwick, but my friends call me Flit.”

  “Well, my lord, it was a pleasure–”

  “Uh-uh!” He waved a finger back and forth. “None of that, please. Flit will do just fine.”

  “But you said your friends called you Flit. I hardly think I qualify.”

  Flit reared back, feigning offense. At least, she thought he was feigning. She didn’t really know him well enough to determine whether or not he was being sincere. “We’ve shared a very intimate rendezvous here, Miss Penelope. I’d say we’re quite good friends now.”

  Was he teasing her? Or flirting with her? Perhaps both. Penny was at once flattered and taken off guard. She didn’t have a lot of experience with men, other than her brothers, but they didn’t count. Of course she’d dreamt of a moonlit rendezvous in a garden plenty of times before, but in her dreams she always said the right thing and acted just so to make the gentleman fall hopelessly in love with her. This wasn’t going at all like her dreams.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she said at last.

  “Well, as long as we’re friends, perhaps you should confide in me why you’re out here all alone, crying your eyes out.”

  All humor fell away from his face as he stared at her—through her, really. Right down to the depths of her soul. It made her slightly uncomfortable, yet at the same time it thrilled her to her core. He made her heart race, and he made it nearly impossible to breathe.


  She turned away, escaping the locked gaze he’d held her in, and stared pointedly at her hands in her lap. “I can’t imagine you’d be interested in my silly little problems.”

  “Silly problems don’t cause one to weep uncontrollably when one should be dancing and sneaking champagne.”

  A lump formed in Penny’s throat, but she willed herself not to cry. How she wished she were inside doing those things, without a care in the world. She’d had such high hopes for her first Season. Those had been dashed, and now because of her own selfish streak, the Little Season was turning out to be miserable.

  “Well, perhaps we should simply say it’s been a difficult year for me and leave it at that.”

  “I’m very sorry about your brother. And your father, too.”

  “Yes, losing both of them so suddenly…” Had been positively devastating.

  She had mourned as she should have, and she’d been eager to return to her life– to get back to some semblance of normalcy after the tragic occasions. To finally heal after the months and months of heartache. And for the most part, she had. Though the emotions could hit her at any moment, unannounced, and she often found that she was excusing herself from company so that no one knew she was still so very broken over the incidents.

  Flit opened his mouth, about to say something, when a voice called for her from the terrace.

  “Penny, are you out here?”

  They both turned toward the voice and then to each other.

  “My sister, Miranda,” she said in answer to his raised eyebrows. “I knew they’d come looking for me sooner or later.”

  “Would it be untoward of me to say that I wish it had been later?”

  Penny’s stomach flipped and then flopped, and she worried she might toss up her accounts as a result of his kind words. How utterly humiliating that would be.

  “Penny!”

  Now Calista had joined Miranda, and they were both calling for her frantically, so Penny simply nodded her head and then dashed off toward the house, wondering when—if ever—she would see Flit again.